


Zigzagging

by Lohrendrell



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Author Was Having Fuzzy Feelings, Car Ride, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:00:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27399145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lohrendrell/pseuds/Lohrendrell
Summary: Jaskier sings, “Close your eyes and think of someone you physically admire.”Geralt follows the instructions.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 10
Kudos: 105





	Zigzagging

**Author's Note:**

> Was feeling weird. This is the most self-projecting thing I've ever written probably. Had to write and post in one go, or I'd delete. Didn't even reread to edit eventual errors.
> 
> Oh yeah, The Cure's "Lovesong" and Morrissey's "Let Me Kiss You" were playing on repeat. For fuzzy feelings, I highly recommend both.

Geralt doesn’t know what does it this time. The constant banging in the neighbor’s, maybe; they’re renovating everything for the baby who is coming soon, and Geralt never liked loud construction noises. Or maybe it’s the actual baby crying in the apartment upstairs from theirs. She’s been going incessantly for hours now. Geralt understands her, in a way.

Or maybe Geralt is just having a bad day.

“What is it, darling?” Jaskier asks, in that overly gentle tone of his, the one he uses when Geralt is like this. It’s equally annoying and soothing, but Geralt doesn’t answer.

He can’t speak.

“Mm,” Jaskier murmurs. The baby upstairs wails harder, and Geralt thinks he can hear her mother starting to weep as well. He thinks he hears the mom asking, _Why does it have to be that way?_

He startles a little when Jaskier’s calloused fingers touch the back of his hand. He’d been clutching his cellphone so hard his own knuckles had gone white, and he lets it go when he realizes it. Jaskier takes the phone, slips it in his own pocket, and offers Geralt something.

His jacket.

“Come on, love,” Jaskier says, dressing Geralt up. “Let’s go out for a while, yes?”

Geralt lets Jaskier turn off his computer, turn off all the lights. Lets him guide him out of the apartment, deal with the cat and the dog that are trying to follow them. Lets Jaskier lock the door, call the elevator, and push them both inside it.

His hand is warm in Geralt’s palm. His skin is soft despite the roughness from all the years of guitar playing. Calloused thumbs, and still, somehow, their fingers are laced together delicately; the thumb caressing the back of his hand is velvet.

The elevator makes Geralt nauseous—not much, just enough for the urge to close his eyes kick in. Jaskier says, “We’re almost there.” Geralt swallows.

He breathes again when he gets into the car, Jaskier closing the door and making his way around it, to the driver’s seat. With all the doors closed, everything improves considerably. There are no sounds inside here, only the soft hum of the air conditioning and the clicking of Jaskier adjusting their seatbelts. They’re inside, and the whole world is shut off. Out.

Geralt breathes.

Jaskier drives.

They have no destination, they aren’t going anywhere. They can stop if they want—if Jaskier wants. Geralt doesn’t.

Jaskier talks sometimes. Amenities, really, but Geralt doesn’t answer. No answer is expected, he knows. He’s grateful for that.

“I’m going to put on some music, honey, what do you think?”

Geralt looks out the window, to the world passing by, like a movie about some kind of disparate reality. Jaskier hums, taps his fingers to the rhythm of the songs in his playlist. He sings, “ _Whenever I’m alone with you, you make me feel like I am home again._ ” He always has a different playlist for moments like these, and somehow they always fit. Geralt doesn’t know how he does it.

It’s cloudy today. Jaskier sings, “ _However long I stay, I will always love you._ ”. Geralt breathes. The music doesn’t bother him. The sound is low.

The cold air in his face is soothing. Jaskier drives him for an hour, maybe two, or maybe more. There’s no traffic today, or maybe Jaskier is avoiding it. They go to the next city and back. Somehow, there’s coffee in his hands at some point. Somehow, they’re moving faster than the world, and the grey sky never weeps despite the heavy smell of rain, and it’s all okay.

Geralt breathes, leans his head on the window.

Jaskier sings, “ _Close your eyes and think of someone you physically admire._ ” Geralt follows the instructions.

He wakes up from dreams of choirs and dandelions drooling on Jaskier’s shoulder. They’re back in their spot at the communal garage. Rain is pouring heavily. It’s night. He’s warm, being held, secure.

“Hey,” Jaskier says softly, running his fingers through Geralt’s hair. “Feeling better?”

“Yes,” Geralt whispers. His voice is rough from sleep. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” Jaskier traces his fingers over Geralt’s jaw and draws him into a kiss. Cornflower blues eyes and a sweet smile—he’s perfect, Geralt thinks, even before Jaskier admits, “I love you.”

Geralt hides his face in his husband’s neck, drawing deep, shuddering breaths. A reply is not expected, he knows. He doesn’t have the right words, never had. Even when he tries sometimes he comes up lacking. He knows it’s the same here, knows he’ll never be able to match what these moments, these car rides mean to him. Still, he offers, “I love you too,” in between quivering breaths and a much too hoarse voice.

Jaskier’s arms tighten around him, breathing deeply, and there’s nothing else around them, nothing, in the whole world.


End file.
